


That's Why We Invited You

by DeMarcos



Category: Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits - David Wong, Zoey Punches The Future In The Dick - David Wong
Genre: Birthday Party, Blow Jobs in a Car, Canon-Typical Behavior, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Idiots in Love, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeMarcos/pseuds/DeMarcos
Summary: Will is a party pooper. Zoey loves him anyway.For Losername.
Relationships: Zoey Ashe/Will Blackwater
Comments: 12
Kudos: 4





	That's Why We Invited You

**Author's Note:**

> Losername requested a frustrating birthday party and some internal monologue of Will being a thirsty perv. I combined the two, to make what I hope is gold. I apologize for this being so short but I had an abscessed tooth pulled earlier this week and though I've been kinda blah on pain meds, I didn't this request to linger in my inbox.

“No.” Will said adamantly. “Absolutely not. I would rather commit seppuku with a dull scaling knife.”

Zoey narrowed her gaze up at him, hands on her hips in her 'I'm not amused' pose. “It’s just a bouncy castle, Will, don’t be a dick about it.”

Will looked from her to the inflatable castle, the whirring of the air machine filling up the back patio. He saw what appeared to be a faint stain on the outside, a child’s vomit that the owner of the rental place didn’t clean up properly. “Over my dead body.”

"That can be arranged, Mr. Party Pooper." Zoey replied.

Rolling his eyes, he turned on his heel and walked back into the parlor, past the colorful streamers and balloons, the smattering of confetti littering the floor, and the giant banner hanging on the wall that read ‘Happy 40th Birthday Asshole!’ in large pink lettering over a table loaded with gifts.

Will passed the Suits, Budd and Andre with their dates (though Andre had been hinting that the lady on his arm could soon be his next ex-wife) and Echo with her two dogs, a Pinscher and a Ridgeback, who were greedily chowing down on some gourmet dog ice cream Carlton had whipped up. Stench Machine was angrily watching them from a corner, pissed they were invading his territory and getting treats on top of it.

He walked past it all to the massive array of liquor set out on a festively decorated credenza so he could refresh his drink. It was the one respite in this festive nightmare, enough alcohol to black out on and hopefully forget everything.

“I told you he wasn’t gonna like it.” Budd said behind him, talking to Zoey.

Will heard her come into the parlor and flop down into a chair. “He’s not _supposed_ to like it. What kind of monster throws someone a birthday party with things they _like_?”

“That would explain why _we’re_ all here.” Echo chimed in, causing them all to laugh.

It wasn’t that Will didn’t enjoy their company or the idea of having a night in with them, he just hated being the center of attention at such things. His wheelhouse was being at the center of hostage negotiations and hostile corporate takeovers, things of that nature, not being the so-called ‘birthday boy’. Zoey knew it, they all did, and that's why they were having their fun. Even in celebration, Zoey had to annoy him, digging under his skin just to get a rise out of him. Instead of asking him what he’d wanted to do for the evening, she’d ordered pizzas, garishly decorated the parlor in the east wing of the Casa and rented out an inflatable castle. Not even a clean one at that.

Scotch refreshed, Will sat down at the table and took a sip. “If this is a party full of things I _don’t_ like, should I prepare myself for clowns? And at which point will the large, bearded stripper you hired for me burst out of the cake to drunkenly belt out ‘Happy Birthday’?” Leave it to Zoey to have found a grizzled gigolo for him, just so she could watch him squirm. Normally he enjoyed the streaks of evil creativeness inside her, but not when he was the focus.

From the other end of the table, Zoey waved a hand deferentially. “He doesn’t have a _beard_.” She teased with a knowing wink. “C’mon, this isn’t exactly my forte. I’ve just heard all my life that no one likes turning forty, so I figured why not make it _all_ things you don’t like, to give it that extra oomph. Parties, people, and pizza. The three P’s. Well... four P's, if you count the stripper's penis.”

Will tipped his glass to Zoey, wondering why he still found himself surprised at her antics. “In that case, my dear, you’ve certainly succeeded. I’m absolutely miserable.”

She grinned evilly at him. “That’s my boy.”

Wu walked into the parlor and got entangled in some low-hanging streamers. He slashed his hands against them to free himself, spinning on his heel to duck out from underneath them. Turning, he found all eyes on him. Wu managed an embarrassed grin. “Food’s here. Gonna need some help with the boxes.”

Standing up, Zoey pointed a stern finger at Will. “You stay. I don’t want you trying to sneak out while we’re distracted.”

"Why try to go out the front door when there's an open patio right behind you?"

"Because knowing you, you wouldn't want to climb the wall and risk scuffing up that suit of yours." Echo supplied helpfully. "Priorities."

Will sighed in defeat. “They certainly are askew, aren't they?”

Satisfied he wasn't going anywhere, Zoey moved to follow Wu out of the room, Budd in tow. Echo tapped a hand to her thigh, getting the attention of the dogs, Gibson and Aquino, leading them outside. It was ostensibly to let them do their business, but probably figured if he _did_ try to make a run for it, it was best to be in a good position. Either way, the groundskeeper was certainly going to be confused when he found the piles of dog shit the next day.

Andre turned in his seat to talk to his lady friend, Camina, a statuesque black woman who was almost as imposing as Andre himself. No wonder he was already thinking of marriage and divorce. Budd’s date, some bleach-blonde escort with a name Will couldn’t recall, leaned over the table, wine glass in hand as she conversed with them. Andre said something witty, making the two of them giggle.

Leaning his head back against the chair, Will settled his gaze on the ceiling. If he’d had his way, the whole night would be going _much_ differently.

It would have started at his favorite restaurant in the city, a place he’d frequented so often the staff no longer panicked when he walked through the door. It was an effect Will had worked hard to cultivate, the mere sight of him striking fear in any who would have done Arthur (and now Zoey) harm, but sometimes, being recognized got a bit tedious.

Will imagined a simple dinner with just the Suits and Zoey, whipped up by a staff that knew just what he liked and how he liked it. A well-cooked meal, easy conversation and laughs with the only people he trusted and cared for in the world. One of them would have ordered some decadent dessert for him behind his back and they all would have playfully threatened to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him.

Full of good food and cheer, the next stop would have been one of the numerous cigar bars in Tabula Ra$a. Andre and Budd would have tried to convince him to go to one of the clubs or strip joints Zoey owned, to buy him a lap dance. Zoey would have gotten a laugh out of that, at the mental picture of Will sitting uncomfortably while a woman gyrated against him, perhaps at the idea of stuffing money down the stripper’s g-string herself, just to annoy him, but wouldn’t browbeat him into _actually_ going, knowing he wouldn’t enjoy it.

Instead, they would go to the bar, to have a few drinks and a cigar. Zoey didn’t smoke, unless it was out of one of her little vapes, but she’d drink, warm hand on his thigh as their conversation turned philosophical. She could be quite the firebrand then, arguing for how the world should be, instead of how it was, until Echo talked her down with frank pragmatism.

They would go to the bathroom together, as women were wont to do, leaving him with Andre and Budd. The three of them would trade war stories they couldn’t talk about with anyone else, fond through the haze of time, remembering Arthur and raising their hands in a toast to absent friends.

Echo and Zoey would return, the latter teasingly asking what they had been talking about. Andre or Budd (or both) would tease back that they’d been discussing what kind of kinky plans Zoey had in mind for Will’s birthday sex. She would blush in embarrassment but take Will’s hand in her own and retort that they were just jealous _they_ weren’t getting kinky birthday sex.

Eventually, the Suits would depart one by one, leaving him and Zoey alone. They’d have one final drink, casually chit-chatting to ignore the elephant in the room. Her fingers would trace over the sensitive skin of his wrist as they talked about some merger or meeting coming up. When they were done, they’d leave hand in hand, Will driving them back to the Casa.

Making good use of the self-driving feature, Zoey would lean over the center console to kiss him, unzipping him with one hand. He would gasp into her mouth, tongue tracing the gap where her canine tooth should have been. Pulling away, Zoey would smirk lasciviously at him before lowering her head into his lap. They’d sit in the slow moving city traffic as she gave him road head, sucking him off as though her life depended on it.

Her head would bob up and down, taking in all that she could, lips sealed around the girth tightly. With each upstroke, Zoey would swirl her tongue around the corona of Will’s cockhead, before swallowing him once more. His hips would set the pace, thrusting up as he pushed a hand into her hair and Zoey’s throat relaxed around him, breathing in hard through her nose as her face was fucked with wanton abandon, making Will admire her sheer talent.

She always did have a knack for pleasure, and it sometimes boggled the imagination, the things she was capable of. Will had been a married man once, as well as a horny teenager, and he’d thought he’d done everything under the sun, until Zoey had infamously burst into his life. She’d made him orgasm in ways so earth-shatteringly fantastic it was as though he’d never truly had sex until he’d had it with her.

In return, he’d tried to keep up with her carnality, refusing to give up until he had left Zoey a quivering, sobbing mess, until his jaw ached, and it felt like his balls would fall off. It was well worth the effort though, when she curled around him in the afterglow, whispering how much she loved him into his ear, making him feel worthy and worthwhile in ways he hadn't felt in years.

Thrusting himself back into the moment and into Zoey’s overeager mouth, Will’s eyes would roll back in his head at how amazing she felt, his jaw dropping as he moaned her name. Fingers clenching in her hair, Will would feel himself grow close to orgasm. He’d warn Zoey with a short, half groaned explanation so she wouldn't be caught off guard and gag at the sudden load of come he was about to pour down her throat. Though, he sincerely doubted she _would_ gag, after all, she could swallow down his entire cock, a measure of come wouldn't likely pose too much of a problem.

Instead of pulling back, lifting off him to avoid getting a mouthful, Zoey would bear down deeper as she took him all the way in, lips brushing through the dusting of pubic hair at the base of his cock. She would swallow around his length, bobbing her head in short little jerks to milk him, throat tightening to spur him onward.

She would feel the tension in his body as he tumbled over the precipice with a muffled cry, his fingernails digging into his scalp harshly. Seconds later, Will would climax loudly, groaning Zoey’s name like a prayer with a warm splash inside her mouth. She would pull up slightly, so she could drink him down without choking, the hot ribbons hitting against her uvula.

Shivers would course down his spine, warming him with little jolts of pleasure through his limbs as Zoey continued suckling him, determined not to let up until she was pulled off Will’s cock. He would do so gently, lifting her by her hair and he’d watch as she licked the white smears off her lips with a pleasured hum.

Will would pull her in for a kiss, not caring about the lingering taste on his mouth. “Do you have even the vaguest idea how much I want to fuck you right now?” He’d groan, only for her to laugh, seeing as he was completely spent.

Her laughter became reality as Will came back to himself to see Zoey standing over him, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Will, you still in there?” She asked, a surprised grin on her face at having found him lost to the world.

Will cleared his throat. Everyone was staring. “Yes, I’m fine.” He replied. “I was trying to imagine myself anywhere but here.”

She glared at him. “When I said didn’t want you escaping, I meant mentally, as well as physically.” Zoey thrust a plate of pizza into his face, wiggling it in a way he was sure she thought was enticing. “You have to eat dinner first, before you can have _not_ bearded stripper cake.”

He glanced at the greasy slices of pizza, some cheesy abomination laden with processed meat that Will normally wouldn’t have touched with a six-foot pole, around to everyone else, now happily digging in to their meals, and that was when it hit him.

Zoey hadn’t thrown this godawful monstrosity of a birthday party just to be annoyingly contrary. She was right, people generally hated turning forty, and he was no different. A widower sleeping with a much younger woman, an army of enemies trying to take them all out with bleeding edge technology he only had a tenuous grasp on, and for all his perceived power, it was only a matter of time before he began showing his age, attracting the violent tendencies of young wolves seeking to replace the leader of the pack.

In the preceding days, he'd gone a bit taciturn, pondering on the twists and turns of his life, and she must have thought he was nearing a midlife crisis and had specifically planned the worst possible party ever, full of everything he hated to keep his mind from potentially going to a dark place. He very well couldn’t fall into an existential meltdown if he was too busy complaining the dog hair on his suit, bouncy castles, and clogging his arteries with grease-laden junk food.

Not that he would, Will figured he had several more years before the crisis hit. Probably after a few deals went sour, one of them lost a limb dealing with the insanity that was their day jobs, and Zoey decided to get a deep dicking from somebody else when she realized she didn’t want to be in her thirties fucking someone in their fifties. Probably.

For the moment, he grasped Zoey’s wrist, the one holding out a plate of heart attack ammunition and peered up at her. Will truly saw her then. A batshit crazy woman who had gone from a trailer park to running one of the most profitable criminal empires in recent history, and successfully at that. She’d defied the odds, proven him and everyone else wrong at every step, and had somehow managed to retain her humanity. It was the goodness in her that had attracted him to her, the balm to his harder edges that constantly existed in shades of gray. The fact that she had planned this party just to allay any mental breakdowns, to protect _him_ when they were usually so preoccupied with protecting _her_ , it was proof positive that this wonderful woman loved him, more than any kiss, tender word, or sweaty tumble between the sheets could convey.

Tugging on her wrist, Will pulled Zoey down so he could whisper in ear. “Do you have even the vaguest idea how much I love you right now?”

Leaning back, Zoey smiled warmly at him, eyes shimmering with the affection written on her heart, seeing that he'd _finally_ figured out her cunning plan. “Enough to get into the goddamn bouncy castle?”

“Yes.” Will said adamantly. “Absolutely yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> The dogs are named after William Gibson, the godfather of cyberpunk and Corazon Aquino, the first female president of the Philippines.


End file.
